The CEO and Her Driver

Chapter 51

I was a conflict queen. Unphased by the chaos that bubbled up from passive-aggressive comments. Some people ran from it, eager to keep an illusion of peace in place at all costs. But I had never been good at hiding my thoughts... at least not the negative ones. Those came out swinging, like an out-of-control boxer. Like... well, me.

So cornering an attempted murderer in my fashion rival's office seemed like a lovely way to spend my Monday morning. 

And now my time had come to lean into the chaos and drag the conflict to the surface, kicking and screaming, ripping it out by the roots to make sure it could never spread its weeds again. Like yanking out mandrake roots in Harry Potter, you just have to bear the screaming to get the job done.

Derik Lawson stared back at me, silent as he slowly ate another skittle, sharp eyes contemplating my accusation. 

"Derik... what's she talking about?" Laurence asked. 

Derik snorted, throwing his head back and catching another skittle in his mouth. "SUUUUUURE. You don't sound crazy at all." 

He threw another skittle into the air, but I caught it above his head, leaving him staring up at me, mouth wide open, waiting for a skittle that would never come. "I should have put it together  when you tried to stab me at the Masquerade." My voice had a sickly sweet tone, a stark contrast to my words. "Your breath smelled like..." I ground the skittle to dust in between my fingers, letting the flakes fall into his face. "...fruit. Like these STUPID. SKITTLES," I said into the dead silence.

Derik wiped angrily at the flakes, a flash of anger crossing his features, betraying his calm exterior. "You have—"

I cut him off, barreling on. "You were wearing a mask that night, but you still had that stupid man bun, which paired nicely with Susan's ridiculous hat." 

I sighed, pinching my nose, attempting to push away the hurt at Susan's involvement. "I saw you both at the entrance of the maze. I should have known it was her, she kept trying to get hats made at Winters, but I am not much of a hat person." 

Derik rolled his eyes, moving to get up. "You really are the Unhinged Fashionista. You've lost it."

I placed my hands on the arms of his chair, blocking him from moving as I leaned closer. Making it crystal clear that he wasn't going anywhere. "Call me what you want, but you were the one taking my designs and sending them to Royal Fashion. You are the reason my designs have kept getting stolen." 

Laurence swore, hand covering his mouth as he stared at Derik, suddenly realizing that Royal Fashion had been plagiarizing Winters' designs for months. 

"The question is," I continued, eyes narrowing as I stared at the stupid lump of a skittles-ridden man bun sitting before me. "Who got you your job here? Want to tell us yourself, or do you want me to take a wild guess?" 

Derik said nothing, suddenly gaining enough common sense to stay silent. His eyes promised murder. 

I crossed my arms. "Nothing to add?"

Laurence pulled me away from Derik, speaking to me in urgent whispered tones. "Allie... what if you are wrong?"

I shook my head, pulling my arm free from his grip. "I'm not." 

Laurence ran his hand down his face. "Because if you are right... then..." He swallowed. "Then I'm ruined." He sat down on the edge of his desk, suddenly pale, eyes wide. "My company will be in shambles."

I turned back to Derik just as he angrily shoved his phone into his pocket. "Still have nothing to say?" I asked.

He glared at me, flipping me off from his chair like the dashing heap of garbage he was. "Classy," I replied dryly. "It's very noble of you to take the fall for breaking into my office, attacking me, and stealing my ideas." I waved my arm casually. "I suppose making you the scapegoat makes the most sense for the others involved."